


Just a Test

by Queerily_kai



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Ficlet, Gen, Interview, Knife skills, bucky is kind of terrifying, chef assasin bucky barnes, everyone is confused, i blame rbb slack chat, sam and steve are in awe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerily_kai/pseuds/Queerily_kai
Summary: Sam is a head chef, just trying to hire a new line cook. Bucky comes to take Sams test, the one he has all potential new hires complete, and is blown away by Bucky's performance.





	Just a Test

**Author's Note:**

> The mini restraunt AU ficlet that you didnt know you wanted.  
> The one I started way to late at night, enabled by the RBB Slack Chat, and then forgot about for weeks. 
> 
> Well, I found it, and its done.
> 
> Your welcome?

“Chef?” Peter called out hesitantly as he pushed open the kitchen door. “There’s a guy named Bucky here?”

Sam glanced up from the piece of beef on his board, giving an easy smile to the nervous busboy and set down his knife. 

“Thanks, Peter,” Sam replied, “Send him back.”

Peter hurried back out of the kitchen, and a moment later a man dressed in all black came through the door, knife roll slung across his back. 

“Hi, Thanks for coming in today.” Sam greeted, extending a hand out to Bucky.

“Are you the one I talked to on the phone?” he asked quietly as he took Sam's hand to shake. 

“Yes, I’m Sam, head chef,” He introduced. “And That’s Steve,” He continued, gesturing to a muscular blond in the corner, “my sous.” 

Bucky looked over at Steve, giving a polite nod in greeting, and then turned his attention back to Sam. He stood straight, almost at attention, clearly awaiting directions. 

“I’ve got a work space set up for you over here.” Sam explained leading Bucky to the line and gesturing to a cutting board on a small prep table, with a neat list on the board.  
“I’ve learned over the years that talking to cooks about their resume doesn’t really tell me what i need to know, so i made a test instead.” 

Bucky just nodded as he picked up the paper and looked over the list. It looked like a fairly standard prep list, followed by 2 dishes he was to prepare. 

-1/9th pan red onion, small dice  
-shallow 1/6th pan green peppers, thin julienne  
-1 quart Bechamel  
\- 24 ciabatta crostini

1 serving seafood scampi using the following-  
Garlic  
Shallots  
White wine  
butter  
Shrimp  
Scallops  
haddock  
Fettucini

8oz burger  
Med-rare  
Swiss  
LTO  
Brioche  
Onion straw

“How long do I have to complete your test, sir?” Bucky asked as he set the paper down again and looked up at Sam. 

“No official time limit, but keep in mind the restaurant opens at 4, 3 hours from now,” Sam answered. “Everything you need is either in the walk-in there, dry storage through there, or on the shelves to the left of the dishwasher.” He pointed out various doorways and corners as he spoke. 

“Yes, chef, understood.” Bucky replied, still standing stiff and formal. 

“Ask Steve if you have any questions.” Sam directed, and made his way back to the stew ingredients he had been prepping previously. 

Bucky glanced around as he removed the knife roll from across his shoulders, and set it down to unroll, pulling out a 8 inch chef knife, a 6 inch paring knife, and a steel. He pulled off the blade guards, and laid the knives across the top of his board and the steel on the metal tabletop behind it, and then placed his re-rolled bag on the shelf under the table. 

Sam returned to his work station and resumed trimming and dicing the top round cut of beef in front of him, glancing up periodically to watch what Bucky was doing. 

At first, Bucky didn’t seem to be doing much of anything. He was studying the list intently, almost like he was memorizing it, periodically glancing around the kitchen. After a minute or 2, he put down the paper and closed his eyes. 

Sam shifted his gaze across the room to look at Steve, noticing his Sous chef appeared to be equally confused as he watched Bucky. Sam raised a questioning eyebrow, Steve just shrugged in response. Neither of them understood what was going on. 

Suddenly, Bucky’s eyes popped open and he was moving toward the shelf of pots and pans, returning quickly to his station with 2 pots, a saute pan, a sheet pan, and a couple of bowls. He deposited the sheet pan at this work area, and set the other pots and pans on the stove top, filling one with water to boil. And then he was off again, disappearing into the walk-in with a bowl and re emerging with an armload of bread and produce. After another dash across the kitchen for several 6 and 9 pans, he finally got to work. 

The bread was first, ciabatta baguette quickly cut on a bias into oval shaped slices that Sam suspected would all be identical in thickness if he measured them, and into the oven after being laid on the baking pan and drizzled with olive oil, salt and pepper. Onions were next, red ones diced with a speed and accuracy that was almost scary. Within minutes the armload of lettuce and tomatoes and garlic and onions was reduced to a neat row of pans organized across the prep table in front of him. 

Sam and Steve, as well as the other cooks, all stopped what they were doing to watch Bucky. They stared as Bucky worked, knife blade and fingers and produce a blur with the speed he worked at. At least one mouth was hanging slack jawed in awe. 

Just as quickly as the first time, Bucky moved across the kitchen with a determined grace that shouldn't have been possible for a man of his bulk. With barely a pause, he opened the oven door as he passed, spinning the pan of crostinis and closing the door again in one fluid motion, and continued on the the store room. He returned this time with a handful of pasta and a quart of flour, smoothly dropping the linguini into the pot of now boiling water as he passed and setting the flour on the prep table with a spin before going back to the walk-in, returning this time with a hamburger patty in one hand, and butter, cream, milk, and cheese stacked in the other. 

With the same inhuman speed as he had diced the onions and sliced peppers with, Bucky had a 1 pound block of butter unwrapped and diced into perfect squares, with three quarters of it tossed into the pot to begin melting. He moved back toward the walk-in again, once again barely pausing at the oven as he pulled out the tray of crostinis that Sam suspected were perfectly golden and crispy. 

Like the rest of his staff, Sam had giving up on the pretense of getting any actual work done, and moved across the kitchen to stand next to Steve, shoulders nearly touching. 

“So what do you think?” Sam asked quietly as Bucky once again emerged from the walk-in, this time carrying a plate of seafood. 

“I think I’m not sure i believe what I’m seeing.” Steve replied, crossing his arms as he watched Bucky work. 

They stayed standing together in the corner, watching as Bucky practically floated around between the prep area, stove and grill, not a single movement wasted as he cleaned and trimmed fish, scallops and shrimp, combined butter, flour and milk to make a basic bechamel sauce, and turned and flipped the burger to create perfect diamond grill marks. He dropped a burger bun onto the grill to toast, and floured onion strings into a fryer with a single fluid motion. The saute pan sizzled as he dropped seafood into hot oil, flipping the pan and making flames with one hand while simultaneously pulling a toasted bun off the grill the with the other. 

The whole kitchen staff had started moving toward the center of the line where Bucky was lining up plates in the pass, having given up on pretending they weren’t watching his every move. 

“Is he going to finish everything at the exact same time?” Steve questioned, leaning in to whisper into Sam’s ear.

“I think he is.” Sam replied, staring along with the rest of the staff. “And I think he’s going to finish in under 30 minutes, too.”

The silence was broken with a clink of ceramic hitting steel as Bucky placed the burger and scampi plates in the window. A lower thumping noise followed soon after as a quart of thick, white sauce was placed next to it. Next was a metallic clang as the pans of diced onions and julienned peppers were placed next in line, and finally, a serving platter of crostinis that no one had even noticed Bucky pulling from the the shelf rounded out the grouping. 

“Finished, Chef.” Bucky announced clearly, standing at attention once again with his hands behind his back. 

Sam and Steve walked over and pulled the plates down from under the heat lamp, and tasted each dish. Their smiles grew as they noticed the perfect pink center of the medium rare burger, the just past al dente cook on the pasta, and perfectly cooked shrimp and scallops. Bucky stayed still, calmly watching with his arms behind his back, and the relaxed face of a man who was confident in his skills. 

Sam and Steve set down their forks and looked at each other with a nod.  
“Yeah?” Steve questioned.  
“Definitely.” Sam replied. 

“Bucky, I have to admit I’m impressed.” Sam announced, turning to look at Bucky again. “I’ve never seen anyone work so efficiently, with such consistent knife skills at that speed. The job is yours, as soon as you are able to start.”

“Thank you, Chef,” Bucky responded “but I’m not actually looking for a job. I just wanted to test a theory.”

Steve and Sam looked at each other again, expressions matching with confused furrowed eyebrows.

Wordlessly, Bucky packed up his knives and walked back out of the kitchen, slipping a phone from his pocket as he went. 

“You were right, Nat.” They heard him say into the phone. “They definitely gave me some kind of chef training. How did your test go.” There was silence for a moment as the person on the on the other end spoke.  
“All the choreography? The entire ballet? What the hell were they trying to train us for?” 

Sam and Steve just stood at the door, watching in confused shock as Bucky exited the restaurant. 

“Did we just get punked?” Steve questioned.

“I have no idea what just happened.” Sam replied.


End file.
